


Breathe

by LovelyArtist



Category: Welcome - Fandom
Genre: Ableism, Autistic Carlos, Bad Things Happen To Carlos, Carlos is a sweet cinnamon roll too good for this world too pure, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil takes care of Carlos, M/M, Panic Attack, internalized ableism, not sure what to call it tbh, or anxiety attack, or meltdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:06:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6485695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyArtist/pseuds/LovelyArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a normal trip to the bank. until the world started to collapse in on itself for the scientist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all,  
> This is actually based off of something that happened to me today. I went to a bank I didn’t know with my SO, so we could open a joint savings account for our house fund, and I had a panic attack/meltdown from the sensory overload. And I felt really really embarrassed about it, cause I haven’t really had something like that happen in front of them, and I’ve always felt self-conscious about the stuff that makes me me. So I figured writing about it would help. 
> 
> Headcanons at play:  
> -Carlos has Autism and stims  
> -Carlos was brought up catholic  
> -Carlos’s father was/is ableist  
> -Carlos has some internalized ableism  
> -Carlos wears glasses

The minute he walked in the door Carlos knew he hadn’t had enough sleep and was consequently low on spoons. 

The scientist inhaled a deep breath, eyes aimed at the floor. He glanced to the right, where his boyfriend stood casually, looking like there was nothing wrong at all. Carlos could venture a guess that the world wasn’t directing all of the sensations and sensory input it possibly could at him. Just himself. He took the hand of the host next to him, trying to ground himself in reality. 

In Night Vale, a feeling of unease or impending doom is normal, and even encouraged to keep people from becoming complacent. Carlos felt shame in himself, however, that he was in-arguably- the most normal-seeming place in Night Vale, and still felt as though his throat was closing up.

Cecil had suggested they open a joint savings account. They had been saving for a proper down payment for a house for almost a year and a half and decided it was time for them to take it out of the jar on top of the refrigerator and put it somewhere a little more safe, and where their loan officer would be able to acknowledge it as real. Carlos swallowed the lump in his dry throat, and realized he had stopped breathing. He tried to focus his thoughts away from the outside world and turned them internal. _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. The lights are too white. No, breathe. Inhale. Oh god why are their keyboards so loud that can’t be normal. You’re not breathing. Inhale. Exhale. I hate these shoes God why did I wear the tight shoes today. Her voice is so loud. Breathe, Carlos! Inhale. Exhale. In-aaaagh what printer prints that loud that’s not even Night Vale normal. You’re not breathing again, just be normal! Be normal for ONCE, for Cecil!!_  
  
Carlos brought himself out of his thoughts for half a second as Cecil gently pulled his hand, indicating a Teller would see them. Carlos tried to keep his hands from shaking as he sat in the seat, realizing as he sat down he was in the epicenter of a seemingly earth-shattering tremor that only he could feel. The teller’s voice was piercing; a jovial sound about three decibels too loud and an octave too high. Carlos focused on breathing at an even pace. Cecil said something, something in that beautiful, oaky baritone that showed itself only every so often outside of the recording booth, but Carlos couldn’t properly enjoy it when it sounded like it was under twelve feet of water. He moved the purity-ring (At a time Carlos wasn’t crushed by the entire world all at once he would’ve laughed at the fact it was gifted to him the day after he snuck in with his shirt backwards and inside-out) -turned-promise-ring on his left ring finger to his thumb and consciously twirled it around his finger.  
He tried not to cry as the unending noise of the too-small room assaulted his head. He was consciously aware of his fidgeting, tensing and begging his body to just be normal so he’d stop embarrassing Cecil. _Do not rock here, you stop that right now._ His father’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, a glimpse back to childhood. _It’s not that loud in here. Stop embarrassing your family. We can’t take you anywhere, I swear._ Carlos swallowed another dry lump in his throat, gently squeezing his fingers, trying to substitute the negative input with something positive. It wasn’t working. Carlos could feel his throat closing and it was everything in him not to curl up into a ball and sob. 

He felt his resolve waver as a familiar hand rested on his. “Carlos?” Cecil’s voice sounded less underwater than it had before. “Honey? Are you okay?”

Carlos looked up at him, not into his eyes, instead at his ears, or his nose, or mouth, or the plant right next to him, he couldn’t remember which but those were usually easier than eyes. _Look at my eyes, don’t be rude._ He obeyed the “orders” in his mind, but felt ill when he did so he returned his gaze to somewhere “safe”. He wondered if he had any color in his face at all. He knew his eyes were wide as saucers, and felt shame in the pit of his stomach for feeling so panicked in such a normal setting. _Say something,_ he half scolded, half begged himself, _Stop gaping like that. I know you can speak, use your words!_ The voice in his head turned into his father’s again. 

All his begging to himself did nothing, and he simply stared at Cecil with eyes wide and mouth open as if his voice wasn’t tangled in his vocal cords and trying to force itself to his mouth through a million imagined mesh filters. He blinked a lot, trying to banish the threatening tears and find the words to explain to someone that he had been so, so careful to hide this part of himself from except on rare occasions what it felt like having your entire body turn to lead and the volume on everything deafen him and _want_ so badly to not be affected by it and _want_ so badly to _just be bloody norma-_  


“Is it too loud?” Cecil asked quietly, not even a little bit of pity or condescension in his voice. “I can finish up with this if you want to go outside.”

Carlos nodded vigorously, so incredibly grateful for the chance to escape, and started to stand. “S-Sorry,” his voice finally fought past his tightened throat. “S-sorry, C-Ceec.”

Cecil just smiled in reply and shook his head, trying not to add to the noise. Carlos walked in fast, wide strides to the front door of the bank, pushing open the doors and releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding and wiping away tears he didn’t know he shed. He found a place not too close to the door, shaded by a small tree and shrubbery next to him so he didn’t block Sheriff Secret Police cameras, and sank down to the ground. He almost tore off his glasses, putting them on the ground next to him and hugged his knees to his chest, rocking himself to and fro. 

After a little while, Carlos felt the knot in his chest beginning to unwind. He was vaguely aware of shoes on the pavement next to him. “Little bit better?” Cecil’s voice was soft. Carlos realized he knelt down next to him.

Carlos nodded, still rocking slightly. “l-little bit.” He murmured.

A moment of silence passed between them. “Is there something I can do to help?” Cecil asked again. 

Carlos thought for a moment, unsure. He scooted closer, so he was right next to Cecil. He felt so embarrassed to ask, but it was such a nice feeling. “M-maybe run your hands in my hair?” he almost slapped himself with how weird he knew he sounded. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Cecil complied almost immediately, gently petting Carlos’s dark brown curls, fingernails massaging his scalp. 

They sat there, Carlos rocking much gentler now, and Cecil still running his fingers through his hair tenderly, until Carlos was at ease again. “Sorry about that, Cecil.” Carlos frowned, looking away. “I… K-kinda low on spoons today, I guess.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Cecil’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner.”

Carlos felt tears prick his eyes. _Why, why was he being so nice? I embarrassed him, I made a complete fool of myself. Why can’t I just be normal? He deserves so much better._ “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” Carlos muttered a little lower, still not looking at him. 

“Embarrassed me?” Cecil repeated back, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“You know,” Carlos twirled the ring, still on his thumb. “freaking out like that, in somewhere so…. Ordinary… There wasn’t even a ‘Station Management’ type figure there. It’s probably the most ‘normal’ place in Night Vale.”

“Just because it’s ‘normal’ doesn’t make it any less frightening sometimes.” Cecil’s soporific voice soothed Carlos’s pained ears. “Just because something isn’t ‘sensory hell’ to me doesn’t mean it isn’t ‘sensory hell’ to you.” He put air quotes around “sensory hell”.

Carlos twirled his ring, uneasily. “S-still,” he muttered, “I know it’d be so much easier if I was…”

“Was…?” Cecil’s inflection changed the word to a question.

“You know,” Carlos kept his face away in shame. “more… different...”

Cecil’s heart sank. He heard the words Carlos didn’t say. _“More ‘normal’.”_ “Carlos,” he said softly, “I love you. And all the things that make you, you.” He laughed a little bit. “I love how passionate you are about everything you do… I love how you question everything, even the things that might get you in trouble… I love how you see things so differently from the rest of the world...” Carlos could hear a smile in his voice, but it turned more serious. “Sometimes you have trouble with talking to people, or understanding people. Sometimes, the world just- becomes too much to handle all at once. And that’s okay.” Carlos felt Cecil press his lips to his head. “I love you for _you,_ darling. The good, the bad, and the perfectly imperfect. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Carlos sighed quietly, leaning into Cecil and wrapping his arms around him. “I love you too, Cecil,” Carlos’s voice was soft. “Thank you… thank you for being you and loving me…”

Cecil smiled, wrapping his arms around him and giving him a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for being you.” He said. 

A pleasant silence passed between them, and Cecil used the hand that was still stroking Carlos’s hair to gently tap to get his attention. “Do you still want to get lunch, or would you like to go home?”

“Can still do lunch,” Carlos nodded, “But let’s not do Big Rico’s. They’re too busy on Thursday’s. Can we go to Jerry’s Tacos or something instead?”

“Sure,” Cecil smiled, then released him from the hug so they could stand. 

As they stood, Carlos trapped Cecil in a hug. “I love you.” He said softly.

“I love you too, you perfectly imperfect man.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wellp. I got a little stuck for the end part, but there you go. 
> 
> OH! Also, for those of you that don’t know, the spoons thing is something originally referring to Lupus and other physical illness, but was kind of adapted to the neurodivergent community that refers to how much energy someone has on a day. Read in detail http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/


End file.
